To Be Free
by svetennings
Summary: I didn't believe in reincarnation, and I still don't for that matter, so what the actual frick frack, kit kat, bing bang, is going on here? SI-OC Fic.
1. Chapter 1

This is crazy.

I didn't believe in reincarnation, and I still don't for that matter, so what the actual frick frack, kit kat, bing bang, is going on here?

I'm pretty sure I died, in a mildly embarrassing and highly entertaining way, I'll admit. It may have had something to do with haunted houses and paranoia and some wannabe ghosts that tried to "kill" me that actually killed me.

Thinking back, he must have been in quite a bit of shock considering what transpired after his weird little spider trick. Huh, well, kid's got what's coming.

I must say, I do regret dying such a premature death, and honestly, a little indignant. I had just finished studies, and about to embark on an actual life, when...this happened. Like excuse me, I did not slug like a dog just to get killed off like a measly side character.

I thought I was the hero of my story dammit, where's my plot armour when you need it?

Anyways, as I was saying, I believe in some kind of extreme situation that should demand an extreme explanation, I seem to have been reborn, given a new life in that sense.

'And very literally too,' I thought, looking down at my puny sized, well, _everything._

It wasn't until I was two, for that matter, where I understood something, at the very least, because. Two meters away, and one grand stand above me, kneels one Gol D Roger.

_"My fortune is yours for the taking, but you have to find it first! I left everything I own in One Piece." _

There. He said it. The words, filled with such immense pride and awe inspiring that would eventually spur the next generations of pirates.

But, not me.

All I could think of was: BITCH WHATTHEFUC-


	2. Chapter 2

So here we go again.

My name, or rather my new name it seems, is Illyeanna Roxanne. Yes, the Megamind one. That one. Not a bad name, it's pretty cool. I'd shorten it to something else though, it's way too long.

Now, I don't exactly know what happened, but from what I've gathered so far, considering I was two when the pirate king died, I think it's safe to say that I've been born five years before cannon. Which is honestly great, having a few years of a headstart before shit gets real.

I guess then, this brings me back to the issue of what I'm going to do. Let's be real, I have zero idea.

It could have been worse? Like, a whole lot worse. At least, there ain't no man-eating titans, or I don't know, a yandere teen with a freaky notebook. One wrong move and you're out.

Here, this is paradise. It's a world designed to allow people to pursue their dreams, a world designed for freedom. It's cool. Coolcoolcoolcoolcool.

There are so many people that I never thought I would get the chance to meet. Damn, You bet your ass I'm gonna meet them.

I wasn't naiive or stupid though. This world, while not as dangerous as others, will require training. I gotta get strong, if I want to do the things I want to do, see the people I want to see.

I wasn't born to very significant parents. My father was a regular fisherman. He does look slightly familiar, but I just couldn't yet put my finger on what or who. My, uh, 'mum' died after giving birth to me, which I deeply regret, yet strangely don't feel too saddened by her death.

Sure, I may sound cruel, but it's a bit hard to truly mourn for someone that I didn't have a relationship with. It's sad, like the kind of sad when you hear a friend's grandmother who passed on, but I wouldn't cry.

Besides, I'm a grown ass woman. I'm not about to become an angsty teenager with mummy issues. I'm too old for that.

My father was a decent being, he was pretty well liked in the village. And he wasn't too bad a father. He didn't blame me for being the cause of my mother's death, so that's a plus.

I do sometimes spot him staring into space and looking at one of the older picture albums that was sure to have my deceased mother, and so, being the cute little girl that I am, with a fair amount of a guilty conscious, I crawl up to him - because my legs are so damned stubborn - and blow raspberries onto his face.

Ain't babies cute?

Often times, he snaps out of his daze, looks down at me and smile as I gurgle and giggle all the way. So, I'll take it.

His eyes sparkle as I finally utter my first word, "Dada" on my third birthday.

I know, it was a long time coming, but why the rush? In fact, if only he wasn't so concerned that I'd be a mute, I'd probably have taken more time.

I felt as though after twenty years or so of constant grinding, I did deserve a break. Especially, now that I'm conscious, and knowing what was in store for me, I was going to get all the sleep I can get.

My father, I had gotten to know him as S. Raymond, though most people call him Ray, would go out in the morning, leave me in the care of some ladies that I won over instantly with baby luck, and pick me up in the evening, with a freshly cut fish on his back.

I'd always smile and run up to him, or at least try to, before falling onto his big burly hands as he caught me and carried me home. I fear I've made a connection with this man, and surprisingly, it's a rather welcoming thought.

And as the days pass in aimless wonder and laughter, I realise that in the blink of an eye, I'm already seven.

And it's time for life to _really _begin.


End file.
